The Pit and the Pendulum
by Locked Myself Up in a Room
Summary: An homage to Edgar Allan Poe's short story of the same name- my own version with Gaara as the victim. It is not particularly gory, but rated T for content. Reviews are welcome!
1. Trial

Gaara's entire body shook uncomfortably as he stared up at the hook nosed maniacal man at the stand. He pointed a slender, bony finger at Gaara with a look of disgust on his face, "yes, he's the one judge. I saw him transform into a monster at the chunin exams…if he hadn't been led away from Konoha, he would have surely destroyed the entire village."

Gaara shrank into his seat. The accusations kept coming, berating him down until he felt nothing inside. He was being tried for being a jinchuriki. The plaintiff was a group of extremists, a group who hated all jinchuriki. Their reason for bringing Gaara to court was to sentence him, punish him, for his crimes against Konoha during the chunin exams.

Gaara could barely remember his time in Konoha…when Shukaku took over, he lost consciousness for a while. When he was reawaken, it was to battle Naruto. Naruto had ultimately changed his world view on suffering and killing, Gaara was ready to turn a new leaf…but now he was receiving the wrath of those who hated the jinchuriki. Was this justice? Did he deserve punishment for his years of bloodlust? He wasn't exactly sure. His mind was clouded with doubt.

He knew no good could come from this trial…it was only a matter of time before he heard his ultimate fate. The judge and jury members eyed him with disdain…the outcome was surely going to be bad.

They took a recess so the jury could collaborate and make their decision. Gaara waited in his seat, unable to move as he was gripped with fear. He knew the jury didn't like him…he wondered what his punishment would be.

…..

Gaara never expected just how awful his sentence would be. The judge stepped forward, slamming his gavel onto the table to quiet the chatter of the crowd behind Gaara.

"Have the jury reached a verdict?" he asked.

The group of dastardly plaintiffs sneered at Gaara, arms crossed in a haughty manner. A member of the jury stood up, and Gaara felt his breath hitch. "We have your honor," the woman said with a twinge of hatred in her voice. "We find the defendant guilty. We sentence him to death."

Gaara felt all the air in his lungs escape, he felt like he had been kicked in the gut. The judge said more, the people behind Gaara were chatting, but Gaara heard none of it. His ears were ringing unpleasantly. Death.

That word. He never thought he would be sentenced that harshly. There was no way he heard it right…how could this be? The jury would sentence a 12 year old to death for his crimes to Konoha?

His hands were shaking, he held them out in front of him as they were shackled again. His body was acting of its own accord, limp and numb, disconnected from his brain.

He was taken back outside of the courthouse into the blistering sun, blinded temporarily by the light. Then he was shoved and pushed to walk forward, the crowd around him was full of people sneering and booing at him. Some tried to claw at him or spit at him, but the guards around him pushed them away, making a clear path for him to walk through.

…..

Once in the jailhouse, Gaara was stripped of all of his clothes roughly. He was given a small, tightly fitting loincloth to wear. The fabric barely covered him, it wasn't very modest. The brown material lay below his hips and stopped short just a few inches on his upper thigh. It was itchy against his skin, chafing his thigh and backside in a very uncomfortable manner. The lack of clothing left him feeling very naked and vulnerable. He wondered why they even bothered to give him the loincloth, the cloth was so thin and short it was almost as if he was wearing nothing. It was tightly pressed against his crotch, and the outline of his privates could easily be seen through the material.

His gourd of sand was thrown out, and taken far from his grasp. He was inside of a dank, dry room, devoid of a single grain of sand. His captors did not want him to escape, they feared what would happen if he was able to use his ninjutsu.

Gaara let everything happen with an air of numb silence. He was stunned silent by the trial outcome, and felt powerless to fight back. If he fought back, that would only prove to the extremists that he was a monster, and that all jinchuriki should be killed. If he could get through this process quietly…perhaps he could become a martyr, a beacon of hope for those who despised the tailed beasts and their jinchuriki…

But it was hard to keep that tiny flicker of hope inside of him when he was being treated like a mongrel, like something lower than dirt. The guards were not gentle as they tore off his clothes and replaced it with the brown monotone loincloth. They slapped him around a bit, cursing his name and kicking him to make him bow down.

Gaara already sported a few cuts and bruises by the time they were finished with him, leaving him panting on the stone cold floor, and watching him with loathing in their eyes. A new man then walked up, and Gaara recognized him as one of the extremists watching during the trial. Gaara flinched slightly at his malicious glare, and got up from the floor, trembling.

The man kicked Gaara in the side, and he fell down again, but did not make a sound. The man sneered at him, "You filthy jinchuriki…are you trying to hide the pain from us? Trying to show us that you are not weak?" He kicked Gaara again, and this time Gaara could not prevent the scream of pain that escaped his lips. "That's better," the man said, getting up and pulling something out of his breast pocket within his jacket.

He pulled out a tiny blue bottle, filled with a suspicious looking liquid. Was it poison? Gaara did not know…but maybe if he was going to die from a dose of poison, that wouldn't be too bad…One sip and then perhaps a moment of pain and then his life would be over…

The man saw Gaara eyeing the bottle. He smirked, "wouldn't you like to know what this is?" he asked in an evil, taunting manner. Gaara did not respond. He thought things would go better if he just stayed quiet.

The man began to pace the floor, his steps echoing off the high vaulted ceiling unpleasantly. "Truth is, I went through great lengths to get what's inside this little bottle," he said, shaking the bottle so that Gaara could hear a sloshing sound inside. "And I'm not quite ready to have you drink it just yet…you need to realize the pain you've caused others first."Gaara just stared at him, his hate for the man growing as each distrusting word escaped his lips, "Some of the others in our group think that giving you this little drink is too cruel…but I disagree. There's nothing more justified to me than you suffering in this manner." As he spoke, Gaara clenched his teeth and his hands curled into balled up fists, "You see, I was one of Rasa's most trusted advisors," Gaara's eyes opened wide with shock. His father? "And because of you, the 4th kazekage is now dead…Rasa was a great man. The best kazekage that Sunagakure ever had…and now, because of your actions, both of your parents lie dead beneath the ground!" the man spat the last sentence at him with rage and then slapped Gaara across the face. Gaara touched his stinging cheek, begging for the pain to subside.

"If you're looking for justice, then why aren't you going after Orochimaru? He's the one who struck the killing blow to my father," Gaara said. His resolve to stay quiet had failed. He truly hated the man before him with all of his being.

The man barked a laugh and then thrust the bottle into Gaara's hands, opening it up roughly. "Drink this you brat!" he yelled. Gaara tightened his lips, but the guards behind him were strong. They rushed forward and opened Gaara's mouth forcefully, then the extremist poured the liquid inside. Gaara held the disgusting juice in his mouth, not daring to swallow. "It's a potion with traces of your own mother's blood," the man said as he attempted to pour more into Gaara's opened mouth.

Gaara immediately gagged and spat the liquid out, not caring if he got some on the man's shirt. The man backed away as Gaara continued to spit out the stuff onto the floor, feeling disgusted with himself for ever letting it pass his lips. "How…How dare you!?" Gaara cried, curling his hands into fists again, this time ready to lunge. He pulled against the grasp of the guards on him, using all his strength to break free.

Gaara ran forward, but the man caught his fist in his hand and threw Gaara on the ground. Without his sand to protect him, Gaara felt every bang and bruise inflicted upon him. He was powerless without his sand, and he was already weakened from being manhandled by the guards earlier. His wrists were still shackled too, so he didn't have full control of his arms. He was defenseless against the maniac before him.

The man kicked Gaara's legs so that he was forced to sit down on the floor again in a somewhat awkward, tangled position. Then the man bent over him and snapped a finger at the guards. The guards obeyed the command and roughly opened Gaara's mouth again, digging their thumbs against Gaara's lips and allowing the sinister extremist to push the opened bottle back into his mouth. He shoved the bottle deep into Gaara's throat, making him gag. Then he tilted it, and the liquid poured down Gaara's throat. He was forced into drinking the foul liquid, with tears streaming down his cheeks. The only person he had ever loved in this world was his mother. And now, he felt like he was betraying her by drinking her own blood. It was a retched, unforgiveable act.

He coughed once the men released him from his grasp. He tried desperately to retch up the liquid, but his mind was feeling clouded. A foggy haze covered his vision, and he was having trouble thinking straight or moving his limbs. Before he could say anything to the cockroach of a man before him, blackness took over his mind. He fell hard against the cold surface of the floor, passing out.


	2. Cell

Gaara's eyes opened slowly, taking in the dark, ominous surroundings. His arms were splayed out to the side, chained up against the wall behind him. His head throbbed uncomfortably, sending shooting pain through his skull. The memory of his trial, and of the man who forced him into drinking the cursed potion hit him like a punch to the gut. Hot tears trickled down his cheeks, he balled his fists up and cursed under his breath. He still tasted the metallic, rusty taste of blood in his mouth. This punishment was surely worse than death.

He blinked the tears away, allowing his vision to become less clouded. He took a good look at his surroundings for the first time, noting that he was in a damp, stone-wall cell. The smell of vomit and decaying bodies lingered in the air, making him wince and his nostrils twinge with revulsion. The rusty bars in front of him were a reminder that he was no longer a free person. He was going to die.

Panic boiled up from within as reality finally settled upon him. He didn't want to be a martyr for the jinchuriki…he wasn't even sure if anyone in the world knew or cared that he was here. He shook his arms, struggling to get out of the thick metal binds. But it was pointless, he only managed to create a rattling, irritating noise of chain against chain. His arms were beginning to feel sore from being pressed to up against the wall. He tried to stand up, but his arms were placed in such a way as to prevent him from getting up. He muttered another curse under his breath, letting his body relax so he could think about his predicament.

In the still quiet of his cell, he began to hear muted noises that he had not tuned into before. There was a slow drip of water from the moldy ceiling, dripping one single drop onto the stone floor every few seconds. Drip…drip…drip…drip…on and on, making his ears cringe from the steady, but extremely irksome noise.

Then there was another sound, a strange, faint strangling sound in the distance. It almost sounded like someone screaming…or maybe it was a mewling cat? Gaara wasn't exactly sure. But the sound was random, cutting the silence of his cell every so often like a sharp knife. It wasn't particularly loud or obnoxious, it was just…there. And not knowing the source was beginning to drive Gaara insane.

The itchy sensation of the bare loincloth continued to bother Gaara, until the point that he tried to wiggle himself out of the damned thing. But without the use of his hands, it was impossible. He was stuck wearing the scratchy, tight cloth around his groin. It was riding up his backside uncomfortably, and he wanted desperately to scratch his pale, sensitive skin.

The time ticked on and on for Gaara, as he sat there with nothing to do and no one to talk to. The loneliness crept upon him slowly, like a swirling fog creeping up a dark pathway. As the hours dragged on, the emptiness of that dark, damp cell possessed him. He wondered how long he was going to be chained against the wall…how long would he have to wait until his ultimate death? Perhaps this was his fate, to be chained here until he starved to death? He didn't know. Not knowing why he was here, or for how long, drove him nuts. He wanted an answer desperately to his situation. He began to scream, calling out for someone to answer his calls of frustration. He screamed, then cried, and then became still and silent once more.

His throat was dry and raw, he needed to preserve the rest of his speaking energy for the slim possibility that someone came to talk to him…by this point, he doubted if he would ever see daylight or another person's face again. His arms were numb with soreness, begging to be let down to rest by his side. His body was aching from sitting for so long. His stomach lurched and growled with absolute starvation. He couldn't remember his last meal. His mouth was parched, he was having difficulty forming saliva in the dried up orifice. Every nerve inside him pleaded with despair for a single sip of water.

His eyelids started to droop slightly, he was getting sleepy, but wanted to stay awake. He feared what might happen once he slept. But just as he was thinking this, he saw a clear, misty smoke emanate from small holes in the wall. He panicked for a split second, trying to hold his breath, but to no avail. His eyes stung and watered from the gas. It was odorless, but made him cough roughly as he breathed in.

Soon, his vision began to blur as darkness took hold of his being again. The last thing he remembered was the faint noise of someone screaming far away in the distance before he passed out in the cold, dark cell.


	3. Pit

When Gaara woke again, he thought for a split second that he was in the same damp cell as before. However, after scoping out his new surroundings, he realized that he was in a dark, circular deep pit. He was chained to a table, his legs and arms sprawled outwards like a giant spider on a web. He looked up above him, barely able to see an end to the deep pit. Was there an opening up there? He could see a faint light, ever so dull, in the distance ahead of him.

Again, he tried to move up and wiggle out of his chains and shackles, but it was useless. His body was weakened from dehydration and from the beating he received earlier from the guards. He wasn't even sure how long ago that had been. It could have been a few hours or a few days, he had no sense of time in that dark cell. His throat was raw from lack of water, he probably couldn't yell even if he'd tried.

What was the point of yelling anyways? He was completely alone, once again. The damp cell from earlier was riddled with irritating noises, but the complete and utter silence of this pit left his senses craving for even the faintest of sounds. It was eerily quiet. He shook his wrists against his chains and heard the rattling bounce off of the stone walls and up towards the exit of the circular pit.

His skin was cold against the hard surface of the table. He was still wearing that itchy loincloth, the material was rubbing up against him in an uncomfortable way, chafing his backside. His exposed skin grew goose bumps as he waited impatiently for something to happen…he did not know what to expect.

Gaara swooned with delirium, but not all consciousness was lost. He was in a foggy haze of half sleep, his mind begging him to enter the darkness of sleep and escape from this living nightmare. It was the humming and whirring sound that woke him from his daze, snapping his eyes wide up ahead of him.

He saw ahead of him a crescent shaped blade, glimmering starkly against the dull stone walls of the pit. It moved back and forth in a rhythmic motion, descending slowly from above. It was a pendulum, one that Gaara had not noticed before, or which had only just appeared during his haze of half sleep. The blade swept back and forth, inch by inch, across the length of the room. It was at right angles with his body, headed for his chest, ever so slowly.

Panic swelled in Gaara's chest as the pendulum crept steadily down, inching closer with each swing. Gaara struggled violently to free his arms, his eyes never leaving the steel vibrations. The sound grated against his ears, making his teeth chatter uncontrollably with fear. The weapon kept moving downwards, aiming for his racing heart.

It was a mere five inches away now, Gaara could feel the acrid breeze of the fan that swept back and forth across his bound body. His struggling against the chains had only managed to bruise and tear at the skin on his wrists. Gaara shrunk convulsively at each passing sweep, trying to flatten his body against the hard table. His eyes followed the back and forth whirls with despair. He was unable to look away, his brain was bound by horror.

Down, unceasingly and inevitably, down it came. Dread gripped every sense within Gaara as he felt another rush of air from the metallic pendulum swaying across his chest. The rhythm of the crescent shaped blade was static, never changing in velocity. The steel eye pinpointed Gaara's heart, it would soon be torn open and the pendulum would surely be painted red.

As the blade drew nearer, his short lived life flashed before his eyes. He saw images of his beloved mother, his spiteful father, his siblings, and Naruto. He was never very close with Temari and Kankuro, and he wished he could have spent more time with them. He was sorry for all the hateful, detestable crimes he had committed before his heart was changed at the chunin exams. He was once filled with nothing but malice for the world, and he had wanted to kill everyone in sight. His bloodlust knew no bounds. He was so sorry for those thoughts, for the way he saw the world, only a few weeks ago. His encounter and ensuing fight with Naruto had made him realize that he was not alone in this world. He was determined to change his way of life after the chunin exams, but that option was snatched away from him during his trial.

Now, he was lying here facing death. The only thing he could do was beg internally for forgiveness for the awful, dark deeds he enacted in his past. He closed his eyes, giving his last mental goodbyes to his family. _Kankuro, you're a great puppet master, if you keep working hard I know you'll someday be the best. You have the strength and courage of a powerful shinobi as well as a leader. I look forward to seeing how you advance and grow as both a shinobi and a politician of the sand village._

 _Temari, my big sister. You're tenacious will is going to carry you far in life. You have the fortitude and determination to become a great kunoichi, possibly the best that the sand village will ever see. I know that wherever life carries you, you will face every challenge head on, and win._

 _Naruto, I only just met you at the chunin exams, but I already feel connected with you. I have to admit, you surprised me in every way imaginable. I have no doubt you will go on to become a powerful shinobi, and one day you'll be hokage, I'm sure of it. Keep your dreams alive, and keep the will of fire burning._

 _To my parents…I will be reunited with you both soon. I very much look forward to seeing you mother, I hope that your death did not cause you too much pain. It caused a lot of pain for father. I hope you can forgive me father. You never understood me in life, but in death, I hope I can come to understand you. You were a stern, formidable leader of our village. Our people mourn your loss, as do your children._

Gaara closed his eyes spasmodically at the descent, internally saying his goodbyes to those dear to him. He was also thinking that a quick death would be a relief. But he knew that the pace of the swinging pendulum would provide a slower, more painful encounter with death. As he intermittently watched the back and forth motion, he calculated that it would take ten or so swings to finish his misery completely by death. The sharp edge was now only two inches from his chest, he could almost feel the razor sharpness grazing against his exposed skin.

Gaara lastly felt pity for himself. He supposed it was a selfish thought, but he was sorry for himself for being born into this cursed life. From his moment of birth when he became a jinchuriki, he was given a tough life. Nothing was ever easy for him. He was shunned by his own family, and by the people of his village. Left with no love, he turned inevitably to darkness and hatred. He wished things didn't have to be that way. He wished he could turn back time, and change his fate. If only the one-tailed beast had not been sealed inside him…oh how different his life would have been. Or if he had known Naruto as a child…if only he had one friend, perhaps his life would not be nearly over at this point. Things could have been different, but there was no point in dwelling on this fact.

The proximity of the blade was nearly tangible now. All hope left his weakened body as he stared desperately into the void beyond the pendulum. His senses dulled out of instinct, his brain once again begging to encompass him in a dark, trance like state. But his eyes remained locked on the blade, which would soon tear at his chest. _Swoosh…swoosh…swoosh…_ the sound of the swinging pendulum grew louder in his ears, until the shining steel finally found its target.

Gaara screamed a bloodcurdling, vicious cry of pain and despair as the blade sliced across his chest. The blade came down again, and the pain was so great it quieted the scream emanating from his lips. The steel was drenched with crimson now, and Gaara could smell his own blood. The blade ran across his chest again, this time cutting even deeper. Another gargled cry emanated forth, his eyes nearly bulging out of his skull from the anguish. The pain was unbearable, it was pure torture. As his chest sliced open for the fourth time, he felt a sting of agony soar through his entire body. He had never felt anything like this in his life, and he begged for the ordeal to be over as soon as possible. He was offered no relief between swing after swing, as the rhythmic torturous weapon gashed his body open.

He dared not look down upon his chest, he was too frightened to see himself cut open. The raw smell of death was harsh against his nostrils. He tasted blood in his mouth, and let the substance drip from his lips as he was cut another time. The sound of the sharp edge scraping against his skin was discordant and unpleasant on his ears. He wished he was deaf, as the jarring creak of the blade pounded through his skull. Another cry of agony passed his lips as the blade neared his vital organs. Another pass or two, and everything would be over.

One last spine-chilling scream of despair passed forth from the nearly lifeless Gaara as the blade tore apart his heart. He finally allowed his mind to slip into eternal darkness as he closed his eyes on the pendulum for good. His life was no more; his soul had left his body and his brain was quiet forevermore.


End file.
